Why Can't I Be Me?
by Lone Wolfette
Summary: Chris Jericho decides he doesn't want to be an egoholic anymore and makes his best effort to become his face-self again ***Set after No Way Out 2002 thru after Wrestlemania X-8*** PG for language ***Completed 3/12***
1. Chris and Stephanie... a team?

Why Can't I Be Me? 

**Why Can't I Be Me?**

Rating: PG 

Disclaimer: I don't own, I don't have money, so there's no need to sue. Vinnie Mac & WWFE own everything here *except* my plot :P 

Time Line: Set after No Way Out 2002, but without the nWo & Steph is pregnant angles. 

Note: This is from Chris Jericho's perspective. 

* * * * * 

_Chris & Stephanie... a team?_

  
Never play poker with the aPa. They cheat like hell. Unfortunately, I found out the hard way… and wound up losing most of my loose cash to them and there's never an ATM around when you really need one.   
The show starts in thirty minutes, I'm hungry, and I have no idea who I'm fighting tonight. I've just got a really bad feeling about all of this. And why is there no one else around?   
I have got such a headache, but, you know, this table I'm resting my head on is nice and cool. Think I'll stay here, wait and see if anyone realizes I'm missing.   
"Chris?"   
Shit. I really don't want to raise my head, but I guess I will. "This better be good, Adam."   
"You did know there's a meeting going on right now, didn't you?"   
And this day just keeps getting better. I put my head back down on the table.   
"Chris, they sent me to get you. Apparently, they want to start a new angle for you."   
I wave him off. "Tell Vance I'm not coming."   
"You have to." Adam, go away.   
"So, the angle starts tonight?" I ask without looking up.   
"Obviously. Listen, I'm not going back to Vince without you in tow."   
With every bit of sarcasm I can muster, I reply, "Pull up a chair then, you're gonna be here a while."   
So what does Adam do? He pulls up a chair and sits across from me! "May as well make myself comfortable," he says.   
Why couldn't Vinnie send the Hardyz to get me? Or even Jay? They would've gone back without me and lied for me. Not Adam, though. No, he'd rather stay here and annoy the hell out of me. Well, atleast Vinnie didn't send Kirk.   
"Vince almost sent Kurt after you." Adam, don't read my thoughts, I don't like it.   
"I really wanted to know that, thank you."   
"What the hell's the matter with you anyway? You look like shit." So you noticed? He's playing Captain Obvious.   
"I've had an extremely bad day."   
"Ron said you were playing poker."   
"Did he also mention I lost nearly $200 to them?" I finally look up.   
Adam looks relatively surprised, then shakes his head. "Chris, you're an idiot."   
I smirk at him. "Thank you for the vote of confidence, Adam."   
Now, there's an eerie silence that's really bothering me.   
Finally, he sighs. "Do you want me to go ask Vince to postpone your match?"   
I cannot believe I'm about to say this. 'No, I'll take the match, I'll take the storyline, whatever. Just ask that whoever I'm fighting *not* bash in my head with a chair."   
"There goes half the roster."   
"Get out, Adam."   
"Alright, fine. I'll see you later." He's finally leaving! Good, now I can try to figure who my opponent is. 

  
About thirty minutes later, I finally decide to trudge back to my locker room.   
"You look like something that washed up on shore."   
Oh, no, not her. Anybody but her. Here go my ears. I turn to face her. "Hi, Steph." I give her my best fake grin.   
Stephanie smirks. "I take it you haven't been informed of your new storyline yet… or maybe you have, judging from the way you look."   
"The suspense is killing me. What's the new story?" I ask, hoping she'll leave me alone after she tortures me with her voice.   
"I'm sure you're aware I'm not tagging around with Paul anymore," she says.   
"Your point?"   
"Not only are you the most hated--and only Undisputed Champ--but now you'll be accompanied by the companies most hated woman: me," she says, then points at herself and smirks again.   
Why do I suddenly want to slam my head into the wall? "You have got to be kidding."   
"No, I'm not. Sorry, Chris, but whether you like it or not, you're going to be more hated than Paul with his sledgehammer and Steve with the Alliance put together!" she says.   
"And just, who hates me that much that they would do that to me?"   
Steph actually looks taken aback, then falls right into her Princess Persona. "Me." She smiles and turns to leave. "Be ready in fifteen minutes." She leaves.   
I can't move, so I just stare after her. Why me? Why Y2J? I miss being my old self and humiliating her every show. Now, I gotta be friends with her!? There has to be something I can do about all this… I hope. 

  
The show came and went. It was mostly a blur to me, even my own match. I'll have to remember to thank Adam later for the chair shot.   
Atleast I made it to my hotel room… somehow, I can't really remember now. I swear, there isn't an ice pack large enough, it's practically over my entire head… well, okay, just down past my eyes.   
I can hear the door to the adjoining room open.   
"Chris?"   
Amy. Finally, someone normal.   
"Are you okay? You look like you got run over, picked up, and run over again," she says.   
"Thanks for noticing," I reply.   
"You're welcome." I can feel her sit on the bed. "This isn't all just because you're stuck with Stephanie now, is it?"   
"Partly," I say, now kinda hoping she'll go away.   
"What the hell did you do to piss off Vince, anyway?" Amy asks.   
"Wasn't Vance's idea."   
"Then who… oh.' She's got it. "Stephanie's idea?!"   
"You win the prize." I remove the ice pack from my eyes. "You think she wants me?"   
She looks about ready to laugh. "Not when you look like this. There has to be an ulterior motive."   
I sit up, careful not to take the ice pack away from my head. "I just can't figure it out. I finally get the major title and I'm getting nothing else but shit. I think everybody hates me. I mean, why can't I be Y2J *and* have the title? Why do I have to be Jericho, the egoholic and hang around Stephanie, who I spent atleast a good year humiliating? I have a pretty good idea of what the fans think, half of them want to stay with her! I just don't buy this whole turn of events."   
"Wish I could help you there, Chris."   
"It's okay, it's my problem anyway. Guess I just needed someone to dump this one. Sorry." I sigh, then add, "Why can't I just go back to doing things like peeing in Regal's tea?"   
Amy laughs at that one. "You're pure class, Chris."   
"Thanks, Amy, I really appreciate this."   
"No problem. I'll see you later and, hopefully, you'll be looking more like your old self," she says, getting up.   
I actually smile. "I hope so, too." 

  
The next morning, I'm actually awake before 8am (see what passing out before midnight can do for you). I've managed to mill about doing the usual morning stuff without looking in the mirror. Tell you the truth, I'm kinda afraid of what I might see, but I suck it up and go into the bathroom again.   
I lean on the sink and stare at the reflection. Well, there's a nice, big bruise on the side of my face from Adam's *slightly* mistimed chair shot. Atleast I don't look run over anymore.   
I notice something else, though. Just four months ago, I remember looking… happier. I turn away, I'm disgusting myself. I cannot keep up the egoholic, "living legend" bit. It's got to go… and *shudder* Stephanie can go with it.   
Off camera, she's not really that bad to be around, it's just… she always seems to be hiding something.   
*knock, knock, knock* "Who the hell…?" I go and answer the door. Well, speak of the devil.   
"My goodness, you're up early," she comments, smirking.   
"Whadaya want, Stephanie?" I ask, sounding as irritated as humanly possible.   
She ignores my tone and produces some papers. "Script for the next show."   
"Yay," I say, with non-existent enthusiasm.   
This time, she looks at me weird. "Someone seems to have woken up on the wrong side of the bed this morning."   
_I was fine until you showed up, you trashbag ho._ I bite back the thought and just shrug.   
"Anyway," she shoves the papers into my hands, "it's going to be a *very* eventful show."   
"How so?" I ask, knowing she must have some Ace up her sleeve.   
"Read and you'll find out," Steph gives me her patented 'Princess Smirk'. "I'll see you later." She leaves, closing the door after her.   
I sigh and look down at the script in my hands for tonight's SmackDown taping. I flip it open as I head for the table and look up my page numbers.   
"Holy shit!" I exclaim, surprised. I've got about five pages of script while everyone else has about one. I've never gotten more than three. What the hell is she trying to do, kill me? For all she knows, I could have a concussion from last night. I grin at that thought. It would be an easy way out of tonight… except *she's* already seen me, so I doubt that'll work.   
"Lessee, insult The Rock, insult the audience," I frown, "kiss up to Stephanie *shudder*, insult Trips, insult Austin… oh, I'm going to be so dead." I run a hand over my face. "I'll be beaten to a pulp, then probably get jumped by some members of the crowd after the show…"   
"That bad?"   
I look up and see Amy standing in the doorway. "Yes," I reply.   
"I could tell," She says, "since you were talking to yourself." She gives me a grin.   
"Have you seen tonight's script?" I ask.   
"Not yet. I don't think I'll be on tonight," she says, so I toss the script across the table and she picks it up. "Five pages!?"   
"You cannot tell me that Stephanie doesn't have it in for me," I say. "What did I ever do to her… er, for real, that is?"   
"I don't know, but you'll be lucky to get out of tonight's taping alive with atleast Rock, Triple H, and Austin gunning for you."   
She slides the script back to me and sits down across from me. "Do you wanna share our locker room?"   
I shake my head. "No can do. I've gotta room with the Princess now." I pause. "Do I look like I'm gonna be sick, because I feel like I'm gonna be sick after saying that. Or rather, don't answer that."   
"You'll survive, Chris, I know you will," she says.   
"Thanks, Amy."   
"No problem," She gets up. "I gotta get going. You know where to find me." She heads for the door.   
"Bye," I say and she waves as she closes the door.   
I look down at the script again. I may not be able to get out of tonight, but maybe I can think up something to get myself our of *this* storyline. 

  



	2. Benoit's return!

Why Can't I Be Me? 

_Benoit's return!_

The show is nearly over and I'm still conscious… I am amazed! Of course, I got a stunner from Austin and put into the SharpShooter by The Rock. I wonder what Trips has up his sleeve.   
I know this is bad. I'm out here doing "color" commentary during Trips's match with ol' Horseface himself, Test. And Trips has glanced over here about fifteen times in the past five minutes.   
Now, the match is over. Next thing I know, Trips is practically flying at me and everything goes dark. 

  
"Chris?" I feel a light slap on my face. I can't quite place the voice. "Man, he's out cold."   
"Here, try this." That sounded like JR.   
"I doubt he's thirsty, JR." Jerry Lawler. If I was close enough to consciousness, I'd laugh. One of them splashes the water in my face.   
"Someone get the number of that truck?" I quip. They help me sit up.   
"It was Paul," JR says.   
"Hit ya with the belt," Lawler adds.   
"Great," I say, deadpan. "How long was I out?" I rub my head.   
"Maybe five minutes. We thought it was part of the storyline," Lawler says, shrugging.   
"Only five minutes? I'd better get an ice pack," I say and try to stand, but my balance is just a bit off.   
"I'll get the ice pack… and see if I can talk to Paul," JR says, then gets up and leaves.   
"Why don't you take a few days off," Lawler suggests, seemingly out of nowhere.   
"I'd love to." I look up at him. "Do you know how I could *get* said time off?"   
"Tell Vince ya got a concussion," he says.   
this time I laugh. "Ya know, King, I probably have got one."   
"Atleast you won't be lying, then," Lawler says. "Couldn't hurt anymore than getting hit with the belt."   
I look him square in the eyes. "Would you tell me who your writers are? I'm stuck with Stephanie, in *and* out of the story."   
"It's the concussion talking," Lawler comments, then gets up. I'm gonna find JR before Paul gets angry--again." He leaves.   
And here I am, sitting on the floor, next to the announce table. I'm just glad the crowd is too busy trying to leave to even notice I'm still kinda lying here. Ah, who am I kidding? With this egoholic character, most of these people don't even care if…   
"Hey, Y2J?"   
I look up and see a girl wearing one of my shirts standing behind the barricade just behind me.   
"You shouldn't take that from Helmsley. It's bad enough you got stuck with that trashbag ho, but what he did was uncalled for. Just for that, make him pay at WrestleMania," she says, then smiles.   
I almost laugh. "I'll do that, thanks."   
"Just make sure you start calling her names again soon," she says, turns, and walks away.   
"Fraternizing with audience members? That won't do much for your character." Lawler's back.   
I give him a glare. "Where's my ice pack and month vacation?"   
Lawler backs off. Score one for Y2J! 

  
I finally make it back to my lockerroom… and guess who's there waiting for me!   
"You and Paul have a disagreement?" She smirks at me.   
"Can it, Steph, I'm not in the mood," I snap, rubbing my aching head.   
She actually looks taken aback, then the smug look returns. "I *was* going to ask if you're okay, but now I don't really care."   
"Good. Oh, and give my storyline to another writer. It isn't *my character* holding me back, it's you," I say.   
She storms out of the room. Score another for Y2J! 

  
Monday afternoon. Thankfully, the house shows were no problem. Unfortunately, I'm really no better off than I was a week ago. So now, I'm just sitting in my lockerroom, waiting for the Billion Dollar Princess to show up and give me the urge to strangle her--again.   
*knock, knock*   
"It's open," I call out.   
The door opens and I practically jump up, out of my seat… actually, I did.   
"What's this 'Undisputed Champ' crap?" Chris Benoit asks, coming in.   
"That's exactly what it is," I tell him, "crap." I go over and shake his hand. "Good to see ya back!"   
Benoit smirks. "And it's good *not* to see Stephanie."   
"You know about that," I say.   
"I haven't had much else to do," he says, then pauses. "I think I may have an idea of how to get rid of her for good."   
"Tell me, please!" I say, sounding quite desperate.   
Benoit folds his arms over his chest and gives, what would qualify for him as, a smile. "What if you were to partner up with someone indefinitely, you wouldn't need her anymore, right? Granted, you wouldn't be 'Undisputed' anymore, but the Tag Belts are rather prominent."   
"So, you're saying…" I start.   
"I'm back for good, Irvine. I'm not on the DL anymore," he says.   
*knock, knock, knock*   
"I take it that's probably Stephanie," Benoit says.   
I nod solemnly. "Here to make yet another day in my life a living hell." I go over and answer the door.   
"I think you're slipping, Jericho. You didn't make me open the door myself," the Princess says, inviting herself in, but stops cold when she sees Benoit. "Chris?"   
"Yes?" we answer in unison.   
"Good news, Steph, Benoit's back for good," I say.   
"But…" she stammers, "I thought you'd be out another month or even two still."   
Benoit smirks. "Do I need a damn doctor's note?"   
"N-no… you don't… I just… I…" she stammers again, then looks at her watch. "Will you look at the time. I've got a meeting in two minutes!" She rushes out the door.   
"Was it something I said?" Benoit asks. 

  
Raw is just starting. This is going to be a great night.   
Stephanie's music just kicked in and she's walking to the ring. Now for my little surprise.   
I wait through the countdown clock, then go out and stand at the top of the ramp. To hell with the egoholic.   
All I can hear are 'boo's. Oh, wait my Jerichoholics, just give me two minutes.   
I walk down the ramp and get in the ring.   
"What're you doing out here?" she ask, before the music stops.   
"You'll see," I reply.   
The music stops and Stephanie takes the cue. "This must be important. You have something to say?" She grins.   
"Yeah, I have something to say." The 'boo's kick in even louder. Come on, Benoit, take the cue…   
Benoit's music kicks in and the crowd goes nuts. The ovation is absolutely tremendous, very much like Paul's when he returned. He goes around the ring and gets his own mic, then climbs in. "Well, if it isn't wrestling's most hated couple." He smirks, receiving a loud pop for that. "Oh, I'm sorry, you had something to say, Jericho?"   
I smile as the crowd, again, gives me heat. "First, I'd like to say welcome back to you, Benoit." I shake his hand and that gets a decent pop. "Second, Stephanie," I turn to her, "I have *one* thing to tell you." I pause. "Stephie-baby…" A louder pop for that, I think the crowd is catching on. "Must I remind everyone that you are a…" I pause and grin as she looks pissed off and horrified at the same time, "filthy," I pause, glancing over the crowd, "dirty," *what*, "disgusting," *what*, "brutal," *what*, "bottom-feeding," *what*, "trash bag ho!" *what* Huge pop! I was hoping the crowd would pick up on playing along. That felt so good. "You know, it's been so long, I guess maybe I've taken a few too many shots to the head lately and forgot that Y2J is meant to humiliate you." At that, I drop the mic and leave the ring.   
Benoit does the same and follows me out to a huge pop.   
Unfortunately, the moment we're backstage, Vance shows his face.   
"What the hell did you think you were doing out there?" he asks.   
"Well, Vance, I thought I'd give the fans something to cheer about," I tell him, then walk away.   
Benoit looks at Vince, shakes his head, then follows me again.   
Stephanie storms backstage and finds her dad. "Did you see what just happened out there?!"   
"Yes, I did…" Vince says.   
"What are you going to do about that?!" she screeches.   
Vince gives her his patented evil grin. "You'll see." 

  



	3. Vince's revenge

Why Can't I Be Me? 

_Vince's revenge_

  
Later in the evening, I've made myself nice and comfy, watching the show. Benoit, well, you know him, he's just standing there, staring stone-faced at the monitor.   
"Hey, Benoit, why don't you sit and take a load off? I'm the one who's most likely in trouble and I'm sitting here all relaxed," I tell him.   
He shakes his head. "McMahon's been too quiet."   
I smirk. "You're a man of many words," I quip, then pause. "Hey, I'm positive Vince is cooking up some scheme to get revenge on me for ruining his precious storyline. Now, I'm just waiting for him to spring it."   
"I just don't like it," Benoit says, monotone as always. But that's what I like about the guy: he offsets me. He's all business, while I'm… well, we all know what I, Chris Jericho, am like.   
"Fine," I say, giving up. It's no use anyway. I turn back to the monitor in time to see Vince, Stephanie, and Paul in the ring. I lean forward. "Here we go, now this is more like it."   
"Jericho!" Vince says, his voice at is usual gravelly best. "Get your ass out here *NOW*!"   
"You think he's mad at me?" I ask, smirking, but Benoit ignores me.   
"Harsh," he comments.   
I roll my eyes and stand. "Yeah, like that group scares me. Listen, if for some reason I get jumped or something stupid like that, find the Hardyz and retrieve my carcass, alright?"   
Benoit gives me, again, what passes as a smile for him. "Wouldn't you prefer I find them *before* they pick you clean?"   
I groan. "Don't attempt humor, please. You be serious, I'll be funny." I head for the door.   
"When have *you* ever been funny?" Benoit asks.   
"I'll be back, hopefully on my own accord," I say, then close the door.   
On my way out to the main arena, I can still hear Vince calling me out. And, of course, there's the occasional superstar standing in the wing, giving me odd glares as I pass them.   
Finally, I reach the curtain and my countdown begins. The lights go out, the fireworks go off, and I'm now standing at the top of the ramp and the crowd is going absolutely insane. So, naturally, I stay at the top and milk it for all it's worth. After all, it's been a while since I received a pop (besides earlier tonight).   
"So, you finally decided to grace us with your presence, huh, Jericho? Well…" Vince began.   
And, I interrupt. "I've been waiting a long time to say this, but… Welcome to… Raw… is… Jericho!" Another loud pop. "Well, Vance, I guess I sort of screwed up some plans of yours. Like, for example, killing any chance for me to be a good champion again by sticking me with that two-cent, brutal, slut you call a daughter!" Yet another loud pop, I love it! "Or ruining my image by turning me into a raving egomaniac rather than my usual charming self." Another excellent pop.   
"Jericho, come down to this ring and say all that!" Stephanie cries out, piercing everyone's ears.   
"Oh, Stephie-baby, you miss me that bad already? I didn't know you loved me that much! Why didn't you just say you wanted a *piece* of Y2J?" Huge pop for that one. "Not that I'd give you anything, of course. Your rates are too low for my standards. Hell, you make sluts that are a dime a dozen look good!" Another great pop.   
"Jericho, get your ass in this ring now, so I can beat the living *bleep-shit* out of you!" Paul yells.   
"No, I don't think I'll give you that satisfaction, Trips. Besides, you should be used to no satisfaction considering Stephie-baby was never capable of giving you any!" Listen to that pop!   
Now, Stephanie's trying to "hold back" Trips. That's some good acting, Paul. Vince looks about ready to explode… and that's about the time I forget what happens next because everything goes dark. 

  
Sometime later, I return to the land of the living just in time to hear:   
"Hey, guys, he's alive!" Amy.   
I open my eyes and try to focus. She's leaning over me.   
"How many fingers am I holding up?" she asks.   
"Eleven?" I quip.   
"He's fine," Amy says, then turns away.   
Benoit takes her place. "I did like you said."   
I blink. "What *was* that that ran me over, anyway?"   
"The Dudleyz," Matt answers. He and Jeff are standing on the other side of where I'm, apparently, laying.   
"Of course, then Vince and Paul took cheap shots at you," Jeff added.   
"Jeff," Matt says, glaring at his brother.   
"What?" Jeff asks, looking confused.   
I groan. "No! No Steve Assclown impersonations! I can't take it!"   
"You're right, Amy, he is okay," Benoit comments.   
"Of course, I am! I only got run over, that's all," I say, sitting up oh-so-slowly, careful not to make the room spin.   
"As long as you're conscious, Chris," Amy says, "that's what matters."   
"Thank you," I say, "and thanks to the rest of you, too, for the back up."   
"No problem," Matt says and Jeff nods his agreement.   
"You owe me," Benoit says.   
I look at him. "Well, whadaya want, then?"   
"You know damn-well what I want. I want those tag titles," Benoit replies.   
"Now, *that* I can live with," I say. 

  
Tuesday, SmackDown taping.   
My locker room is packed… or about as packed as five people could make a room. We're all staring at the monitor… er, well, actually, I'm a little busy staring at the floor, trying to balance the ice pack on my head.   
"There goes trouble… it's Stephanie," Amy says.   
I wave at Amy. "Better turn the volume down before the Princess shatters all the glass in this room." She turns the volume down a few notches.   
Stephanie enters the ring with a huge smile plastered on her face and asks for a mic. "Monday night was quite possibly the best night of my life! Why, you ask…" She pauses.   
"She doesn't have to pay for her voice lessons anymore?" I ask, to no one in particular.   
"Because Chris Jericho got his ass *kicked*!" she finishes.   
"I think she was a little too overjoyed in saying that," Matt comments.   
"I think she knows I'm not supposed to be wrestling tonight, considering yesterday was Monday," I say.   
"Not supposed to be?" Benoit asks. "What're you thinking, Irvine?"   
"Me?" I ask, as innocently as possible. "I'm just going to cut a promo and cost Paul his match, that's all."   
"But, Chris, they know you'll be an easy target," Jeff argues.   
"Yeah, I know that, but…" I begin.   
Only to be cut off by Amy, "*But* nothing! This is all starting to become just a little too personal. Just because you're taking liberties on the script doesn't mean that Paul won't. Besides, before he was on the shelf, when he had his trusty sledgehammer, did he not really injure you?"   
Great, now they're all glaring at me. "Well, yeah, he did, but…"   
"You're staying here. Y2J can stand one night *out* of the lime light," Amy argues.   
"…Come on, Jericho, we haven't got all night," Stephanie calls out.   
"I can't just not show, she's calling me out!" I argue back.   
"And it's a trap, Irvine. Get it through your thick skull and huge ego," Benoit says, then adds, "I'll go out there. They won't be expecting the Rabid Wolverine." He leaves.   
Amy smirks. "I guess he told you." I frown. She turns to the Hardyz. "Maybe you guys could keep an eye on Benoit, just in case. I can keep an eye on Chris." Two-thirds of Team Xtreme leave and Amy turns back to me. "See, it's not that tough."   
"You're killing me, Red," I say.   
"I know," she returns. We turn back to the monitor in time to see Benoit enter the ring, mic in hand.   
Stephanie has her patented smirk going. "Oh, I'm sorry, did I not make myself clear as to *which* Chris I was calling out?"   
"Crystal clear, Stephanie," says the man of few words… most of the time.   
"So, Jericho's yellow, then?" the Princess asks.   
I start to stand up, but Amy pushes me back down.   
"No," Benoit answers simply.   
Stephanie puts on a fake pout. "Awe, is the Undisputed Champ too high and mighty and unconscious to come out and sling his insults at me?" She grins.   
"No," Benoit--again--answers simply.   
Now, she's getting mad. "Then why are you out here instead of him!?"   
Benoit moves closer and practically looms over her. "Because I *wanted* to come out here."   
…And that's about when Trips jumps the barricade and slides into the ring. Damn, why is he still getting a huge pop? There go the Hardyz now. I *really* wish I could go out there.   
"You're not going out there, Chris," Amy says, Not another person reading my mind! First, Adam, now Amy.   
"Fine…" I agree, then see the Dudleyz run to the ring. This time I actually get to stand up.   
"Oh no," Amy groans.   
Of course, I notice she's momentarily distracted, so I take the opportunity and run out, heading for the ring. I practically dive through the curtains, but when I get to the ring, the only ones left standing are Trips and the Dudleyz. Why didn't I have sense enough to listen to Amy?   
"Well, well, look who finally decided to grace us with his presence," Stephanie says, smirking again.   
Immediately, Trips and the Dudleyz leave the ring and chase me up the ramp and back through the curtains. Thinking that this was just for show--and seeing no cameras around--I stop to catch my breath. Trips and the Dudleyz plow through the curtains and head straight for me.   
"Oh, shit," I whisper, just before I'm attacked from all sides, backed against the wall.   
Maybe after two or three minutes, someone shows up wielding a steel chair. From my (disad-) vantage point, I see it's Adam, then everything goes black (again!)… but only momentarily because Adams comes over and starts slapping my face to wake me.   
"Chris?" he asks, as refs and security haul away the three trouble makers.   
Amy joins Adam. "I knew it." She shakes her head disappointedly.   
"Help me wake him up," Adam says.   
Once again returning to consciousness, I subconsciously flail about a bit and they each grab one of my arms. I try to focus on them, but all I'm getting is double.   
"Chris?" Amy asks. "I know it's a stupid question, but are you okay?"   
"Ugh," I groan, now feeling nauseau. I shake my head lightly, "No." 

  



	4. Hospitals are scary!

Why Can't I Be Me? 

_Hospitals are scary!_

"I knew it!" Amy says, pacing in the waiting room of the hospital. The other four glare at her. She shrugs.   
"Hey, Adam, man, thanks for helping out," Jeff says.   
"No problem, besides I had a feeling Chris was eventually going to be in over his head," Adam replies.   
"Yeah, and 'in over his head' is putting it mildly," Matt adds.   
Benoit stands up. "I'm going to see how he is." He walks down the hall.   
Adam jerks his thumb towards the hall. "What's with him?" The others shrug. 

  
This is *not* the way that the Undisputed Champ should be treated. I fold my arms over my chest. I shouldn't even be here. I should've just been given some aspirin and told to get a lot of sleep. Big deal, so I have a concussion. Feh.   
The door opens, ending my diatribe, and Benoit stops in the doorway. "You're an idiot, Irvine." He closes the door after himself.   
"Thank you, Benoit, I *really* needed to be told that," I say, the sarcasm just dripping.   
"Look at where you've ended up…" he starts again.   
"Oh, please. This is just another 'Vince screws over Chris Irvine yet again'," I say, interrupting. "The man must have a personal vendetta against me since it seems he cannot stand to see me happy… well, completely happy, anyway. I *loved* being the fan favorite, Y2J, but I didn't have the *real* gold. I finally get said gold and everyone except the die-hard Jerichoholics hate me. Either way, I'm losing in some way."   
"Are you done?" Benoit asks.   
"I'm never done, I thought you knew that," I say, sounding *just* a bit spiteful… okay, very spiteful.   
"The others are out there. I think they wanted to see you, but I don't think you're ready for more visitors yet. We'll come back when you stop feeling sorry for yourself," Benoit says, then leaves.   
*I'm* feeling sorry for myself?! I just don't like having *either* the gold or popularity. Well… if ever there was a time I needed to think, it's now. And I do *not* feel sorry for myself! 

  
2am. I can't sleep. I guess that's what happens when you keep getting knocked unconscious and when you're on the receiving end of a 'Benoit tongue-lashing.'   
I need to get out of here. Not many things scare me, but being in a hospital is *definitely* on that short list. Every time you're in a hospital, they find something else wrong with you, even if there really isn't. I just want to go back to the hotel and be non-existent for a few days.   
A mischievous smile spreads across my face. I toss the blankets off and get up, careful not to get a draft in the meantime. Feh. I had a concussion. For *that* I couldn't keep my own clothes on?   
I gather my stuff and change quickly. I open the door quietly and peak out into the hall. Won't this be an interesting finding for the staff in the morning. Ha! 

  
Amy's in the hotel lobby, reading a book. She looks up at one point and guess who she spots sneaking in. "Chris!" She gets up and comes over to me. "What the hell are you doing here? It's almost 3am!"   
"I know what time it is. I just couldn't stay there any longer," I say. "I just want to go and be non-existent in my room." I start to pass her, but she grabs my arm.   
"Listen, we're just trying to help. If you ease up on being so stubborn, we'll ease up on acting like your parents," she says, then accents it with a smirk.   
"I'll remember that," I say, then head for the elevator. Thankfully, there's no one else around (besides Amy). I lean back, waiting to reach my floor, thinking about what she said. Dammit, she had to go and make a good point. I guess I am being stubborn. Well… that's the way I am, so there's not much I can really do about it.   
The elevator stops and I finally get out on my floor. I pull out my wallet and find the pass-card for the door. I swear I've never been this happy to get to my hotel room. Anything… almost… is better than in a hospital.   
I toss my wallet on the nightstand and drop face-first onto the bed. Everything will be fine in the morning… 

  
*pound, pound, pound*   
Ugh… I pull the pillow over my head, hoping that noise will go away… it won't! Damn, they're persistent, but I'm not answering! …It stopped! I slowly remove the pillow from my head and glance at the door. Good, now I can go back to sleep…   
"Chris!" I hear and get hit with a pillow.   
I know I must really be out of it because the surprise makes me yelp and my "attacker" laughs. I pull my face out of the other pillow and look up to find Amy… so I smile at her. "Hi."   
"It's ten o'clock," she says.   
"So, why'd you wake me?" I ask. "It was only seven hours since I came in."   
"Chris, it's 10*pm*!" she corrects.   
"Oh," I say. I hadn't exactly been planning on sleeping for nineteen hours.   
"I just don't think this was a good idea," Amy says.   
"Fine, then get the others to haul my sorry ass back to the hospital," I say.   
"I didn't tell them you snuck out," she says.   
I sit up. "You didn't tell them? Why?"   
"Maybe because I was hoping you'd come to your senses, but considering you *slept* all day…" she says.   
"Stop, please!" I say, covering my ears.   
Amy removes my hands from my ears. "Listen to me. We just don't want you to get hurt… well, anymore than you already have. I know what you're trying to accomplish and I'm all for helping you, but if it means shortening your career by wandering around in the middle of the night with a concussion, well… then, you'll end up being what you've called a lot of other people."   
"And that is?" I prod.   
"An assclown," she replies, simply.   
"Alright, I had that coming," I say. "Just let me stay here instead of the hospital. You can keep tabs on me all you want. Call or stop by every two hours or something and check on me. Anything."   
"Well, considering I told Matt and Jeff that I was going to stay with a *friend*, I think maybe I'll just stay here," Amy says.   
"I get the feeling that I was the 'nameless friend', right?" I say.   
"Yeah, but, of course, Matt gave me the third degree before I could leave. I tell you, for a tv-only boyfriend, he can really seem like a real-life boyfriend," she says.   
I smirk. "Such are the problems with being single. Thankfully, I'm married."   
"Which entitles you to a whole different set of problems," she says, returning the smirk.   
"Touché," I say.   
"By the way, I got the outcomes for WrestleMania," she says.   
"Yeah? Wanna give me a hint?" I ask.   
"Paul's gonna win," Amy answers.   
I pause for a moment, then let out an uncharacteristic, "Yippee!" She laughs. "Well, that title's more trouble than it's worth, I'll be glad to be rid of it." She's still laughing. "Stop laughing at me, Amy!" I have to give the hospital one thing: it would've been quieter.   
Finally, she composes herself. "I'm sorry, Chris, but I just can't help but keep thinking that you've just been acting really weird lately, even for you."   
I pout… and she laughs again. "It's the painkillers!" I argue.   
She winks. "Alright, that's what it is." She pauses. "You want anything to eat?"   
I immediately perk up. "Food!?" I give her a wide grin. "Anything you can get, Red, I'm *starved*!"   
"I'll see what I can find," Amy says, then adds, "just make sure you stay put."   
"Yes, ma'am," I say, giving her a mock salute.   
"You're so dead when you're back to normal," she says, then leaves. 

  
The next morning, I wake up at about 5:30am... which is *way* too early, but considering I'd slept about nineteen hours yesterday... I look over and spot Amy on the other bed, sleeping on top of the blankets, with her feet on the pillows, and her head where her feet should be.   
I move quietly so I don' wake her and go into the bathroom. Squinting against the light, I check out my reflection. Either that bruise on my face isn't going away or I keep getting a new one in the same place as before. I splash some water on my face to wake myself up some more.   
Damn, I really got banged up. I can't believe this is the first time I've noticed the tape around my ribs. I quirk an eyebrow (*my* version of the People's eyebrow) wondering when that could've happened. Not able to remember, I shrug, then go about my morning 'ritual.'   
At about 5:45am, I emerge from the bathroom and, seeing as how Amy's still asleep, I make up my mind to go get breakfast--that whole pizza I had seven hours ago wasn't enough, so I throw on some clean clothes and leave the room.   
I end up waiting for the elevator and I feel a hand clamp onto my shoulder, causing me to jump about three feet in the air.   
"Little jumpy?" Benoit asks. "I thought you were supposed to still be in the hospital."   
"Wouldn't you be a little jumpy, too?" I snap, not appreciating his scaring the shit out of me. I sigh. "I'm sorry." I leave it at that because I don't want him to know I snuck out, too.   
"What did you do, sneak out?" he asks, reading my mind, apparently (not another!). I nod. "Should've known." the elevator finally reaches our floor and we get in. "Have you seen Amy around?"   
"Uh..." Do I *have* to answer this? "I kinda came in around 2:30 last night and she was in the lobby. Then, after I slept away nineteen hours yesterday, she came and stayed with me. She's still sleeping."   
"Now I know why you always get a double room," Benoit says.   
"Why?" I prod.   
"You're married, yet you still get women that actually want to spend the night with you," he answers.   
I grin. "Just don't tell my wife that." The elevator stops and we get out in the lobby.   
"Mind if I join you for breakfast?" Benoit asks.   
"Sure, why not... wait, how'd you know I was getting breakfast?" I return.   
He shrugs. "You said you slept all day yesterday, so I know you've got to be hungry."   
"The funny thing is, I had a whole pizza last night," I tell him.   
"Come on, then, Mr. Bottomless Pit, I'll treat you," Benoit says.   
"Great!" I say, then add, "Maybe you aren't Mr. Roboto after all." I grin.   
"Don't make me not pay for your food," he warns. 

  



	5. A little training never did any harm

Why Can't I Be Me? 

_A little training never did any harm_

  
After plowing our way through nearly everything on the breakfast menu, we leave the little restaurant (practically in shambles) and head back towards the elevator.   
"So, I guess you're feeling better today," Benoit comments and I notice a shadow of a smirk.   
"Amazingly enough, yes, although I'm pretty worried about next Sunday, though. Of course, considering the last few shows I've had and haven't had, I have to show up this week. I just wish I could say I won't get beaten down again before the pay per view," I tell him.   
He presses the button for the elevator. "Good to know you're finally wary of your situation."   
"I just never thought Paul would take me so seriously. I mean, I know he and Stephanie are dating for real, but everything I'm doing is in character… it just happens to be my face character," I say. The elevator doors open and we get in. "And Vince, too. Stephanie must have gone crying to daddy or something because she didn't get her way."   
Benoit folds his arms over his chest. "For your sake, I hope that the fact that you've been away from them the last few days will help ease their vengeful minds."   
"All I know for sure is that they've got atleast one more thing in store for me and it involves WrestleMania and my Undisputed Title." I pause. "You know, those Tag Titles are looking better everyday."   
"Face it, you had a good run an champ. Granted, you were a heel for most of it, but you *had* it. Besides, things will become alot calmer once you lose that title. I say give that match your best, make it worth-while for the fans, but make sure Paul walks away with that title," he says.   
I give him an odd glare. "Since when did you get so long-winded?"   
"Hanging around you too much," he replies. The elevator stops and we get off.   
"I don't really think I deserved that shot," I tell him.   
"You may not have deserved it, but you still got it," Benoit says, matter-of-factly.   
We turn the corner and nearly run into Amy, who looks rather disheveled. "Dammit, Chris, you had me worried!"   
I shrug. "Sorry, Red, but I was hungry and ran into the Woverine, here, and, well, I think you know the rest."   
"I still oughtta pound you into the ground for scaring me like that!" Amy says.   
"Awe, I didn't know ya cared!" I quip, immediately hugging her, noticing the Hardyz coming down the hall.   
"Geez, Ame, we could hear you down the other end of the hall," Matt comments, sligging his arm around her once I detach myself from her.   
"Should've known you ran into these two, though," Jeff says, then adds, "Aren't you supposed to be in the hospital still, Chris?"   
"I snuck out, I couldn't stand being there. Too many sick people," I say, making a bit of a face.   
"So I guess the reserved rubber room is out of the question, then?" Amy says.   
I fold my arms over my chest and pout. "Very funny."   
"Oh, please, a rubber room is too *good* for him!" We all turn and spot the owner of that piercing voice: Stephanie. "This isn't a town square, even though you do seem to be the Town Crier, Irvine."   
"That hurt me deep, Steph. Ouch," I say, sarcastically. "By the way, where's your bodyguard?"   
"I told him to stay in the gym and wait until WrestleMania to beat the crap out of you," Stephanie says.   
"Well, then, he'd better be careful with all that pent up aggression," I say, then wink at her.   
She lets out a loud, frustrated sigh and stomps away.   
"That went rather well," Jeff comments.   
"I thought so," I agree.   
"What are we gonna do with you?" Amy ask, as we head back to our rooms. 

  
That afternoon, we're in the training ring… and I land on my butt once again. "Come on, Benoit, ease up a little!" I stand up.   
"Your timing is off. I'm only trying to help," he says.   
"You know, I should be the one helping you," I say, "not vice versa."   
"But you've been out of it the last few days, Chris," Amy points out.   
I wave her off. "Whatever."   
"Why don't you two team up and spar with me and Jeff," Matt suggests.   
"Yeah, you guys keep talking about going for the tag belts, and there's some pretty good competition from Tazz and Spike," Jeff adds, then wiggles his brow.   
I nearly laugh. "Yeah, but I'd rather pound on ol' Horseface and Booger Tea," I say, smirking.   
"We're talking about competition, Irvine, not a couple of push-overs," Benoit says.   
"I'll tell them you said that." We turn and find that Paul had snuck in while we weren't paying attention.   
I smile. "Well, well, well, if it isn't the ol' Big Schnoz himself." I leave the ring and walk right up to him. "Don't seem so tough now without the Dudley Boyz backing you up."   
"This isn't my fault, Irvine. You brought this on yourself. *You* were the one who wouldn't give your new angle a chance. *You* were the one who took liberties on the script. *You* were the one who made it personal. Your actions told me that you think Steph isn't good enough to be around you…" Paul says.   
But I interrupt, "Wait, whoa, hold on, and back the train up! Just because I didn't agree with being partnered with Stephanie doesn't mean that I, personally, have anything against her. The problem is, I was thinking of my past character that had spent atleast a good year humiliating her. I just couldn't see partnering with her as being realistic, no matter how much of a heel I was. *That's* why I did what I did."   
"I guess I can't argue with that. I'll tell you one more thing, though, at WrestleMania, Irvine, your Undisputed Title is mine," Paul says.   
"Yeah?" I prod. "Well, guess what? You can *have* it!"   
Paul gives me his famous 'I'm pissed off' look and finally leaves.   
"Wow," Amy comments.   
The guys applaud. I turn and look at them. "See, I'm in control." I grin and we go back to sparring. 

  
Our little tag match goes… kinda well. I mean, it's going just great until I forget about my concussion and attempt the Lionsault. Instead of doing the backflip, I land on my back… hard… knocking the wind out of myself. I groan, feeling everyone's eyes on me.   
Jeff sits up from where he was lying in wait and scoots over to me. "You okay?"   
I look up at him, slightly dazed and irritated. "I'm fine, Skittles. I always mess up my own finisher." Sarcasm, thy friend.   
Jeff just shakes his head as the others gather around.   
"Too soon," Benoit comments.   
"Maybe you should get more rest, Chris," Amy says.   
I'm starting to really despise that word. I sigh. "I just want to get back to being me again," I say, the sadness caused by defeat evident in my voice.   
"You still have the whole weekend. Besides, who says you have to show up for Raw? You can just make an appearance on SmackDown and rest up for next Sunday," Jeff offers.   
Finally, I sit up. "That's not a bad idea." Jeff looks rather proud of himself, earning a glare from Matt. "But I'd still like to keep training. I can't go into WrestleMania after being shelved for two weeks and expect to put on a good match."   
"The guys will go easier on you," Amy says, then scans over them. "Won't you?" They all nod their agreement. "See."   
"You guys are too much," I say, bemused. 

  
That night, I'm sitting in my hotel room… with an ice pack on my head and a heating pack on my back. I glance over at Amy, who gives me a guilty look.   
She shrugs. "I thought I was taking it easy with you."   
"A hurricanrana is *not* taking it easy, Red," I say, then wince remembering the moment of contact between my body and the canvas, hence the heating pad. "And here I thought of all of you, you'd be the least likely to hurt me the most. Boy, was I wrong."   
"Stop it with the guilt trip! I've been apologizing all evening," Amy says, sounding rather irritated.   
"Alright, I'll stop," I say, then sigh. "I'm just worried about being well enough to *make it* to WrestleMania. I know I'm losing the title then, but I'd like to give the fans one helluva match."   
She smiles. "And that's admirable. You really have a good attitude about all of this, it's just too bad that you're so damn stubborn."   
"Here we go again," I interrupt.   
She glares at me, then laughs. "Maybe if I tell you that enough times, you'll remember and try to be a little more lenient."   
I smile. "Fine. I'll rest, but I'm still gonna atleast workout and keep from getting rusty."   
Amy stands and heads for the door. "You could be away for six months and not be rusty. Now, just relax and get some real sleep before I call your parents and tell on you."   
I give her a fake look of horror. "No! No, anything but that!"   
She laughs. "See ya tomorrow." She goes out the door.   
"'Night," I call out as she closes the door. I sigh. What would I do without Amy and the others? …Well, alot of things, probably. 

  
Monday afternoon. We're all in the training ring again… well, almost all of us. Adam and Benoit are sparring with the Hardyz and I'm leaning on the apron, outside, wondering if I'll get a turn with them or if I'll get my ass kicked by Amy again. My reverie is broken by someone--who apparently wants their finger broken--tapping on my shoulder. I turn… and immediately I have a headache. "Hi, Kurt." I give him a fake grin.   
"I hear you're going to hand over the belt to Paul," he says.   
My brow lowers in confusion.. "I'm gonna what?"   
He cringes upon hearing 'what'. "That's the buzz going around, that you're not even going to fight Paul, that you'll just hand him the belt."   
And now you know why I was glad he wasn't the one sent to get me when everything began going downhill for me. I give him a patented Y2J smirk. "Well, Kirk, you can go back and tell the others…" I pause, "what?" I smile. "That I *will* be fighting Paul… what? And I'm not just going to hand over the belt… what?" I pause. "Oh, and if you e-e-ever tell me anything like that again, you will be on the receiving end of an official, unscripted, Y2J ass-kicking that you'll never e-e-ever forget, Junior!"   
Kurt stands there for a moment all flustered, then finally decides to leave. He is such a pushover, didn't even *try* for a last word. Oh, well. I turn back towards the ring to find everyone staring at me. Oops.   
"What?" I ask, receiving a group groan. 

  



	6. The last Raw before Wrestlemania

Why Can't I Be Me? 

_Last Raw before Wrestlemania_

  
Raw finally begins and I'm sitting in the locker room I'm sharing with Benoit and Adam--the Hardyz and Amy are across the hall--parked in front of the monitor.   
Hmm... well, there goes Vince out to the ring, but no Stephanie. Umm... okay, a little weird.   
Vince asks for a mic. "Chris Jericho!"   
"Now, what?" I ask the monitor, irritated.   
I think he heard me. "I hope you aren't planning on bailing on the WrestleMania main event, like I've been hearing from quite a few guys in back. It would be an awful shame to deprive the fans of the match and seeing you get your ass handed to you by Triple H." He pauses. "That's it, Jericho, I'm calling you out and I want an explanation, dammit!"   
I sigh audibly. "Well, so much for staying out of tonight's show." I begin to stand.   
"Hold on a minute, Irvine," Benoit says, sitting me back down. "You know it's just another trick."   
"Besides," Adam says, then produces a video tape, "I taped your tirade on Angle earlier. Why don't we just show it to Vince and see how he likes it?"   
I smile. "Go for it."   
Adam leaves quickly and within minutes, the video appears on the monitor, all the while Vince was having a coniption fit trying to get me to come out. The video picks up from Kurt's original comment about handing over the title.   
The crowd gives a nice pop when I start the 'what's. The video ends and the crowd goes nuts.   
Vince looks like he's about to blow a gasket. He throws down the mic and leaves the ring. Moments later, we hear him calling for me out in the hall.   
"Damn cameras must be following him," I say.   
"Keep quiet," Benoit says.   
I shut up and start hoping Adam has sense enough to not lead Vince here... or maybe he doesn't have sense enough...   
The door opens to reveal Adam, with Vince and his camera crew pushing their way in. Thanks alot, Adam.   
I stand as Benoit stands off to the side, annoyed. "Well, Vance, here I am. You found me." I pause. "Good job!" I smirk.   
Vince gives me one of his many sadistic facial expressions and just stares at me... creepy.   
After a lo-o-ong pause, he finally speaks. "Tonight, Jericho, will be a WrestleMania preview: non-title, you and Triple H." With that said, he turns and leaves. So much for a night off. Damn. 

  
Raw main event. Trips is already out in the ring and my music hits. The countdown ends and I appear at the top of the ramp. This time, though, I don't feel like getting jumped again, so I run down the ramp, dropping the belts along the way, and slide into the ring.   
I'm really not ready for this match, especially since it was impromptu and, therefore, neither of us was specified as the winner ahead of time. I just don't think I can win in the condition I'm in right now (which is about 65% or 70%). For all I know, this could be a massacre... and, unfortunately, it probably will be.   
Trips immediately flies at me and nails me with a forearm to the head. Have I mentioned my incredibly short attention span that came with the concussion? I fall to the canvas and he starts pounding on my head. I try to shove him away, but instead he picks me up and flings me into the corner, following right behind, slamming me hard into the turnbuckle.   
The crowd is getting behind me, I can hear the "Y2J" chant, along with this ringing in my ears.   
Trips climbs the turnbuckle and starts pounding on my head again. This time, I manage to shove him away, but he jumps back up. Out of desperation, I do a standing dropkick that actually stuns Trips momentarily.   
And that's when I spot Stephanie running to the ring. She starts looking underneath the ring and soon produces a steel chair. She hangs onto it, waiting for Trips to get up, which he does very quickly.   
Meanwhile, I'm still sitting in the corner after wearing myself out with that dropkick, but I suck it up and force myself to stand.   
Stephanie hands the chair to Trips, who's practically giving me an invitation to run at him. He starts towards me, but when he approaches and swings, I move and the chair bounces off the turnbuckle and nearly smacks him in that big nose of his.   
While he's dazed, I take the opportunity and decide to bounce off the ropes, but Stephanie latches onto my foot. I try to shake her off, but that doesn't work, so I reach over and grab her hair.   
All the while, I miss Trips leaving the ring and then returning with his trusty sledgehammer. He comes up behind me and *wham!* I'm seeing stars again. 

  
Before I even open my eyes, I let out a huge groan because of my throbbing headache.   
"Stay still, Chris." Amy. She replaces an ice pack on my head.   
I open my eyes and look up at her. "How long was I out this time?"   
"It's 1:30 now, so about two and a half hours. The others went back to the hotel. We're still at the arena," she says.   
I blink. "We're still here?"   
"Well, the others practically dragged Paul out of here. After he hit you with the handle to knock you out, he was going to hit you again with the head, but the guys ran out. Adam and Chris hauled Paul away while Matt and Jeff brought you back here." Amy explains.   
"So, lucky you gets to babysit me again," I say, hoping to revive the humor. No such luck. She glares at me. "Vince threw me into that match! He didn't even wait to see if I accepted." I attempt sitting up, but fall right back down.   
"That doesn't mean you had to go out there," Amy says, replacing the ice pack on my head. "I don't know *how* your wife puts up with you."   
I smirk. "She's very patient."   
She shakes her head. "The most patient woman on earth."   
"Question: why *are* we still here?" I ask, starting to feel very tired.   
"The guys decided they didn't wanna risk you and Paul being in the same building," she says.   
Suddenly, I hear the ringing again. I groan. "I think my ears are still ringing."   
"That's my cell phone," she says, smirking. She flips the phone open. "Hello?... Hi, Linda..." I perk up. "Actually, he's right here... definitely... uh huh, okay... Thank you so much, Linda. Bye." She flips the phone closed.   
"Well?" I ask.   
Amy smiles. "Linda's been keeping tabs on everything that's transpired the past few weeks and she had an idea for a nice little stipulation for your WrestleMania match and then Raw the next night."   
I smile. "So, what's the idea?"   
"Well..." she begins. 

  



	7. The last SmackDown taping before Wrestle...

Why Can't I Be Me? 

_Last SmackDown taping before Wrestlemania_

  
SmackDown taping. I walk out of the bathroom of the locker room with an icepack practically attached to my head. Benoit is watching the monitor.   
"Anything interesting happen while I was gone?" I ask.   
He ignores my question. "Vince and Paul have been too quiet tonight."   
I quirk an eyebrow. "I guess you could call that interesting."   
Benoit glances over at me. "Linda called me."   
"So, she told you her idea, then?" I ask, partly commenting.   
"Yes," he replies. "It'll be good to have some gold again."   
I pick up my two title belts. "You wanna carry one of these until I lose them Monday?"   
"No," he responds, turning back to the monitor.   
I make a quick face at him, then shrug, putting the belts back down, then replace the icepack on my head. "Can't say I never offered."   
Adam comes in and stops to put an arm around my shoulders. "Bad news, Chris."   
I roll my eyes. "Now, what?"   
"Looks like Vince is gonna call you out. Seems he heard about the new plan," Adam says, removing his arm from me.   
"Yeah, call me out so I either look like a coward or get my ass kicked again. Just wonderful," I mutter.   
"If he does call you out," Benoit says, then turns to me, "I'll go. I've been wanting to do some real fighting before my first real match back and I think it'll be a great opportunity."   
Adam looks at him like he suddenly grew a second head. I nudge him. "He's been hanging around me too much."   
"Oh," Adam says. "Well, I'll give you a hand, if you want."   
"Thanks, Adam," Benoit says.   
"Great, and I can make my plan of attack for Sunday," I say.   
"I thought your win is in the bag," Adam says.   
"It is, but other than the winner, it won't be scripted," I say. "Which reminds me, I'll have to find out as soon as possible how I'll lose the title next Monday, if I can. Hopefully, I'll be able to participate in the tag match."   
Benoit stands. "You better be ready or else I'll team with Adam." Adam smirks at that.   
"That's fair," I say, sarcastically. 

  
Later that night, Vince is in the ring doing his usual fifteen-minute monologue. Now, he's calling me out. I kick back and watch as Benoit's music hits, the crowd goes nuts, and he appears at the top of the ramp. At first, Vince looks a bit surprised, but it fades into his usual smug look.   
"Vance," Benoit begins, surprising me so much I nearly fall off my chair. He gets another good pop from the crowd. "I know you called out my good friend Jericho, but I think you and Triple H have kicked his ass enough times in the past few weeks to last atleast a year, so I figured that since I haven't had an official match yet, I'll ask for one and save you the trouble. Tonight, I want Triple H." And the crowd goes wild!   
Vince looks *pissed*! "Who do you think you are to come out here and request a match…?"   
"Hold on, there. I guess you haven't heard yet, but a week from tonight, Jericho and I are going to face whoever the tag champs are for some gold. Do you know who signed that match? Rick Flair did, but do you know who's *idea* it was? That's right, Vance, your lovely wife, Linda, had the idea. So, as Mick Foley used to say," he pauses for the pop, "_have a nice day_." Benoit turns and goes back through the curtain, as the pop continues.   
A few minutes later, the locker room door opens and Benoit comes in. I can't keep it to myself. 'You called him 'Vance'!"   
Benoit folds his arms over his chest. "I am *definitely* hanging around you too much, you're rubbing off on me."   
"Yeah, but is it really that bad?" I ask.   
"Yes," he replies. I pout. "Don't do that."   
"Ya know, still at times you *can still* be Mr. Roboto," I say, smirking.   
"Don't make *me* kick your ass, too, Irvine," he say, somewhat menacingly. 

  
Benoit's match comes and goes. Of course, lucky Benoit didn't get jumped… but he didn't win either. Too bad, too, because I had talked him into letting me come down to the ring with him. Unfortunately, when I grabbed a chair and went to hit Trips, the ref saw it and DQed Benoit.   
"Those damn refs are never in the right place at the right time, nor are they ever not around when you really don't want them," I complain, entering the locker room, followed by the (almost) always-quiet Benoit. He just shakes his head, so I glare at him. "Well, they aren't." He ignores me, so I shrug and go about gathering my things. I pause a moment. "Are you gonna try for a shot at the Undisputed Title?"   
Benoit stops gathering his things and looks at me. "Never thought about it." He goes back to his stuff.   
*knock, knock* Amy and the Hardyz come in.   
"Hey, guys," Amy greets us.   
"Good match with Paul, Chris," Matt comments.   
"Could've been better," Benoit says, tossing a glare my way.   
I catch it. "Alright, so I got you DQed! So what? I just wanted to use a steel chair on him! Dammit, he used a sledgehammer on me…!" That's about the time I realize they're all staring at me and that my voice had gotten rather loud. I back off. "Okay, I'll shut up now."   
"Actually, I was thinking a handicap match would've been better," Benoit says, relieving me of feeling really stupid.   
"Oh," I say. "Well, I'm sure we'll get that sometime, hopefully soon. As for now, I've got a title defense to prepare for."   
"Does Paul actually know that he won't get the title till Raw?" Jeff asks.   
"Well… Vince know, so I would think that Paul knows, especially considering the way he's acting," I say.   
"I'm sure he knows, which means he'll be merciless on Sunday. I won't be surprised if the match ends in 'Last Man Standing' fashion," Benoit says.   
"Damn," I say. 

  



	8. Wrestlemania!

Why Can't I Be Me? 

_Wrestlemania_

  
Sunday night: WrestleMania. Well, it's here, the night I've been waiting for. Paul is already out in the ring waiting to beat the shit out of me… to a certain extent.   
My music hits and I go through the curtain as the countdown ends. The pop is unbelievable. And that's when I realize…   
I'm back. Y2J is back! I've been so busy getting beaten up that I didn't realize it earlier. Too bad I've only got tonight left as Champ.   
I do the usual: hold out a belt in each hand, then spin around. Believe it or not, but this is the first time tonight that I've looked over the crowd here in the Sky Dome. There is a *sea* of signs for me (mostly pro).   
I take my sweet time getting down to the ring and do my pose on the apron, keeping an eye on Trips. I get in the ring and wait for the "special announcement."   
"And the special guest referee…" Lillian begins. Paul is glaring a *hole* through me! I guess he wasn't informed about the ref. Heh! "…Chris Benoit!" she finished and leaves the ring.   
Benoit's music hits and he receives an equally unbelievable pop. He comes down the ramp and gets in the ring. I hand him the belts and he hands them off outside the ring. He calls for the bell… and we're off! 

  
Damn, this has been a hard fought match. Truthfully, I didn't think I had this much in me: we've been going on about fifty minutes now, but I know the end is near.   
Trips doesn't even know what he's in for. I wait until he's dazed and that's when I surprised him with the Crossface! Center of the ring… oh, you can tell this will be the only time that Paul is *e-e-ever* going to job to me.   
Trips starts tapping and Benoit calls for the bell, announcing me still the Champ. Well, I survived. Of course, tomorrow, at Raw, will be another story.   
I make it safely back to my locker room (which is also Benoit's), drop the belts on the nearest chair, then drop myself onto the couch.   
Moments later, Benoit comes in. "I don't recall giving you permission to use the Crossface."   
I smirk. "I don't recall needing permission to use someone else's moves. No one ever asks me if they can use any version of the Walls."   
He moves to the chair I dropped the belts on… and he pushes them off and onto the floor before taking a seat. "Damn good match."   
"Thanks," I say. "I'm glad it was good because I'm so tired I feel like dead weight now."   
"Who says you aren't, anyway?" Adam says, standing in the doorway, wearing his newly won IC title.   
"Ha, ha, ha, very funny Edgeward," I say.   
He gasps. "Oh, my God! Don't tell me the old Jericho has returned!" He holds up his hands and makes a cross. "Back you!"   
I laugh. "Adam, save some of that for our little 'celebration' on Raw tomorrow."   
"Celebration?" Benoit asks.   
"Yeah, I thought it would make a great backstage skit before I go out to the ring later on and get my ass kicked," I tell him. "Then, Tuesday, for SmackDown, we can cut a promo asking the 'Ambiguously Gay Duo', Billy and Chucky, for a tag title match."   
"When the hell did you plan all this?" Benoit asks.   
I shrug. "Last night. I was kinda bored, so… I've already got most of what I plan on saying written down, all ready to be submitted to the writers."   
Benoit quirks an eyebrow. "You do the speaking?"   
"Why not? I like to talk and you like to stand there and look menacing," I reply, smirking.   
He pauses a moment, then gives me that famous "smile" of his. "Okay."   
"So… how do you lose tomorrow?" Adam asks.   
"I'm not really sure, but Paul will probably go for the usual in a Pedigree or he might try to be funny and attempt the Walls," I say, then pause a moment, "but I won't tap to the Walls, I'd rather pass out first, so he'd have to win via me passing out or another move."   
"Via?" Adam questions. "Have you been reading the dictionary again?"   
I look at him, smile, then say as nicely as possible, "Will you please shut the hell up?" 

  



	9. First Raw after Wrestlemania

Why Can't I Be Me? 

_First Raw after Wrestlemania_

  
Monday night, Raw. The "celebration" is under way and the locker room is packed! Besides me, there's Benoit, Adam, Amy, the Hardyz, Rob, Matt Hyson, Pete Senerca, Shane Helms, Nora, Ron, and John, plus some others I haven't seen up close yet. Of course, Ron and John are only here for the beer. Go figure. Now, there's a cameraman trying to shove his way in through the door. Well, I wish him luck.   
I take my cue and jump up on top of a trunk. "Everyone!" I smirk. "Well, it looks like, once again, Trips came up just a little short." The group cheers. "Of course, now he wants a rematch, so I figure, why not? I'll tell ya something, though, I got a feeling trips never even considered a rematch, since he has a tendency to stick with the worst case scenario. I mean, look at who he married!" They cheer again… and that's when the door actually flies open.   
Paul starts trying to shove his way through the small crowd. "Jericho!"   
"Can't wait, huh, Trips?" I call out, then jump down off the trunk and meet him nose to… er, huge schnoz! "Well, here I am."   
"In. The. Ring. Now," he says, staring me in the eye.   
Creepy, but I return the stare. "Fine with me." 

  
…The end of our match, Hebner's been knocked out (so what else is new?). Now, Trips has a chair, but I don't notice because I'm a little busy trying to pull myself up off the canvas. I finally get up and his chair connects with my head. Fortunately (or not), it doesn't knock me out, but stuns me long enough for him to wake Hebner and get the 1-2-3. Goodbye, Undisputed Title, it *hasn't* been fun.   
A couple of the refs help me backstage, but I wave them off as soon as we're behind the curtain. I take my sweet time getting back to the locker room.   
I get to it, go in, and find a few of the "party goers" are left.   
Amy hands me an ice pack immediately. "Good match, despite the chair shot."   
"Thanks," I say, wincing as the ice pack meets my aching head.   
"Still want to go after those tag belts tomorrow?" Benoit asks.   
I look at him. "Definitely."   
He looks at me skeptically. "Maybe I ought to ask when your brains aren't so scrambled."   
"And that would be when?" I return, then grin. "I'm serious. I want those tag belts. The show's only half over. There's plenty of time for out promo still. We can challenge them tonight for SmackDown."   
"Changing the plans already?" Adam asks. "You'd actually give them time to prepare?"   
"More like time to worry," I correct.   
"Fine, then," Benoit agrees. "Say the word and I'm there."   
"Good," I say. "We'll do the promo as soon as the ringing in my ears goes away." I glance over at Amy, who returns the glance with a look of innocence. 

  
Later, during Raw…   
Benoit and I find Michael Cole. Benoit grabs the mic from him and hands it to me.   
I shoo him. "Go away, Mitchell." He leaves. "Alright, so I lost the Undisputed Title. Big deal, but ya know something? Y2J does not like to be without gold. So, Benoit and I are challenging the 'Ambiguously Gay Duo,' Billy and Chucky, for a tag team title match on SmackDown. And we want an answer tonight!" I look at Benoit. "Anything you wanna add?" He just glares into the camera. "Guess not. Interview over." I drop the mic on the nearest trunk and we head back for the locker room.   
We're almost there when Benoit spots the Duo, with a cameraman. "Here they come." They walk up to us.   
"So, now, you want a shot at our titles?" Billy asks.   
"I don't know if these two deserve a shot," Chuck says.   
"We either get a shot at those belts or we take you out here and now for the fun of it. The choice is yours," I say.   
Billy and Chucky exchange glances.   
"You're on," Billy agrees.   
…And that's when Trips runs up from behind and clocks me with one of the belts. Benoit starts pounding on him, but the Duo join Trips and all three are beating on Benoit.   
I haul myself up and get into the fray. Trips clips me, then leaves the Duo to pound Benoit, kicking me in the ribs for good measure.   
Uncharacteristically, I cry out because that *hurt*! Remember when my ribs were taped up? Yeah, I'd nearly forgotten, too. Of course, Trips kicks me once more, then leaves. Okay, Paul is taking this *way* too far!   
That's when I see red… literally. That shot to my head with the belt must have opened me up, so I decide the best thing to do is just lay there.   
A few minutes later, the commotion has died down, so I lift my head slowly to see Benoit sitting against the wall. Oh, sure, he isn't bleeding!   
I look back down at the floor and notice two pairs of feet in front of me.   
"Atleast he's conscious this time." Adam.   
"Man, you weren't kidding about how uncool all this is." Rob.   
I upright myself so I'm sitting against the wall. "Very uncool." I wince.   
Benoit stands and joins them. "This has to end."   
"I think I have an idea, guys," I say, then stand, using the wall for support. "Why don't we wait until next week's Raw for the tag match. Tomorrow, for SmackDown, the four of us can have a handicap match against the three of them.   
"Cool," Rob responds. (Does that guy *ever* drop his character?)   
"Excellent," Adam agrees.   
"Let's go get you head checked out," Benoit says, then leads me to the trainer's room. I'm not sure if it was the idea or that I was still bleeding. 

  
At the hotel that night… I'm sitting on the bed with my arms folded over my chest. I glare at the others who have invaded my room.   
"Oh, stop pouting! You're the one who had the idea for the handicap match. We have to prepare, ya know!" Adam says.   
"Pouting is very uncool," Rob adds.   
I roll my eyes. "Rob, if you don't drop your RVD character right now, I will *personally* show you how 'uncool' something can be."   
"He's back to threatening, I think we can finally get somewhere now," Benoit says. So, I flip him off. "Real mature. How old are you again?" He pauses. "Don't give me the shoe size thing again either."   
"Guys," Amy says, a tone of warning in her voice. "And, Chris?" She looks right at me and Benoit smirks. "If you don't play nice, some night, when you're asleep, Jeff will sneak into your room and dye your hair ten different colors." Jeff grins at me.   
I hold my hands up in surrender. "Fine, fine, I'll be good."   
"Back to the match…" Benoit says, "knowing Paul, he's going to try to change it to his favor."   
"So, we get Flair to add a stipulation preventing that," Rob says.   
Adam claps him on his shoulder. "You catch on quick."   
I bite back a comment and close my eyes…   
Next thing I know, I'm being poked. I open my eyes.   
"We planned out the match. Thanks for letting *us* do it," Benoit says. "Everyone else left and voted me as the one to wake you."   
"Why?" I ask. He tosses the notes at me. "Oh."   
"Just stay out of trouble," he says, then leaves.   
_'Me? Get in trouble? Nah,'_ I think, glaring at the closed door. _'What lovely friends I have.'_ I smirk. 

  



	10. SmackDown and getting smacked around

Why Can't I Be Me? 

_SmackDown and getting smacked around_

  
Tuesday, before the taping begins.   
The meeting of the minds has once again invaded my locker room… don't any of these guy--or Amy--have their *own* locker room?   
I sigh. "After all this, we'd better get our tag title shot next Monday."   
"We will," Benoit says, "but, for now, we focus on tonight."   
"Yeah, yeah," I say, without enthusiasm. It may have been my idea, but things aren't turning out quite the way I envisioned them. "Hey, why don't we go out right at the beginning? Then, later on, we can make a challenge for the titles."   
"That… is actually a decent idea," Benoit says. I smirk.   
"Hey, maybe his brains aren't scrambled anymore," Adam jokes.   
"Don't get ahead of yourself," Benoit says. "He's only said one good thing so far. When he says another, then you can say that."   
"Why is everyone picking on me?!" I interrupt, standing. "I'm the one that's been getting the shit beaten out of so many times I've lost count and you guys keep taking cheap jabs at me!"   
Benoit jerks his thumb at me and says, "See what I mean?"   
I let out an aggravated groan. "Can we *please* get off this 'pick on Chris' thing?!"   
Benoit stands and walks up to me. "If this was a 'pick on Chris' thing, they'd be taking digs at me, too. What we're doing is trying to get you out of the whiny stage. Nice fit you just had, by the way, I'm sure Jay would've been proud."   
If I hadn't truly lost is before now, I just did… and promptly made the mistake of trying to sucker-punch Benoit. He blocks it and twists my arm around, knocking me down, and putting the Crossface on me for a few seconds, then releases it.   
"Are you finished now?" he asks.   
I turn my head to look at him. "I swear, I'll go dig out that Dr. Seuss rhyme clip and torture you with it."   
Benoit stands, then pulls me up. "I'd like to see you *try* to torture me."   
"Sounds like one challenge you better not take," Rob says. Everyone else nods their agreement.   
"Back to the subject at hand," Benoit begins, "did you have a promo in mind?"   
"Yeah, we just challenge them, nothing much," I tell him, a little uncertain."   
"A serious challenge?" Benoit questions.   
"I don't know, maybe something impromptu," I say.   
Again, Benoit gives me that look that passes for a smile. "On second thought, maybe Adam is right about your brains not being scrambled anymore."   
I roll my eyes. "Don't start again." 

  
SmackDown begins and, after the opening pyro goes off, my countdown starts. My music hits and the crowd goes wild. I spin around and wait for the crowd to finish.   
I hold the mic up and the crowd goes nuts again. "I'll bet some of your are thinking that I'm going to whine, cry, and bitch that I lost the Undisputed Title. Well… I'm not. Tonight, though, I want some revenge and so do some of my friends." I pause and wave the others out. Benoit, Edge, and RVD come out. "We're challenging Trips and the 'Ambiguously Gay Duo,' Billy and Chucky, to a handicap match… right now!"   
The four of us go down to the ring and wait for the other three to show.   
Trips's music hits and he comes out with the Duo behind him. "Revenge for what, Jericho? Your inability to watch your own back?" He pauses. "You know what, I'm not busy tonight so I think we'll accept your challenge." With that, he drops the mic, and comes down to the ring with the Duo right behind him.   
The seven of us just start out in one big brawl, which goes fine and good until a few minutes later when the Dudleyz decide to crash our party. Shortly after, the Hardyz join the fray.   
Eventually, we toss out the Duo and the Dudleyz, leaving Trips leaning against the ropes for support. I call for a mic and get right in his face. "You might have won the title, but you didn't beat me. Now, I'm moving on to better things. Get him out of here."   
RVD hits him with the VanDaminator and knocks him out of the ring.   
I watch as the Duo make it to the top of the ramp. "Oh, and I almost forgot, Billy and Chucky, Monday night, Benoit and I want a shot at your tag titles." I toss the mic outside and we leave the ring. Revenge is finally mine. 

  
Back in *my* locker room, everyone is hanging around again, celebrating our brawl.   
"Damn, we should do that more often," Benoit comments.   
"Yeah, we should," I agree.   
"Hey, Rob, man, maybe you and I oughtta challenge the Dudleyz to a TLC match," Adam suggests.   
"That would be very cool," Rob replies, smirking.   
"Rob, seriously, do you ever get tired of saying everything is cool?" I ask.   
He shrugs. "No, not really."   
"Well, I…" I begin.   
"Irvine," Benoit says, glaring at me.   
"What?" I ask.   
"Don't start," he says.   
"Fine, I won't, but only because I'm in a really good mood right now," I say.   
"Just don't say that too loud, Chris," Amy warns.   
I wave her off. "I'm only telling the truth." I pause. "It's about time things started going well again." 

  
The rest of the taping was pretty uneventful and as soon as it finished, we left for the hotel.   
During the taping, Adam and Rob had decided to challenge the Dudleyz to a TLC match… at Backlash, so I suggested we all get together in one of our rooms and put some ideas down.   
We reach the lot and I park the car. Everyone else should arrive momentarily, but for now I can listen to the silence that is Chris Benoit. We get out and go around to the trunk.   
"Wanna wait out here or go in the lobby?" I ask, pulling my gym bag out.   
Benoit does the same. "Doesn't matter."   
"Oh, my choice, then, huh. Well…" I say, "out here, inside, out here, inside…"   
"Inside," Benoit says, shoving me towards the door. We go in and drop our bags in a couple of the chairs, then sit in a couple others chairs.   
After a few minutes, we spot Paul and Stephanie.   
"Try not to kill either of them," Benoit says, rolling his eyes.   
"I won't promise anything," I return, just before they're within hearing distance.   
"Well, Irvine, you put on a nice little show, tonight," Paul comments, "but this is far from over."   
"You think so?" I ask, calmly. "Gee, for some reason, I truly thought you'd be happy being the Undisputed Champ," I pause, "or maybe a bad attitude just comes along with that title."   
"Whatever," Paul says and turns to go. As Stephanie joins in stride, she shoots a glare my way.   
"I get a feeling he's right, somehow," Benoit agrees.   
"And you're probably right," I say, then sigh. 

  



	11. The Raw conclusion

Why Can't I Be Me? 

_The Raw conclusion_

  
Monday. Benoit and I spent all week sparring with the Hardyz and Adam and Rob (who have yet to pick a tag team name). After looking over the Raw script, our tag match will be a "whoever wins, wins" match, which is just fine with me. Benoit wanted it scripted, but I told him he can't have everything and to look at me as an example. His reply was a look that said "shut up or I'll put the Crossface on you *again*." It was pretty funny.   
It's about a half an hour before Raw goes live and we're waiting around in the locker room.   
"If we lost, I'm holding you personally responsible," Benoit states, calmly.   
I return with an indignant look. "Me? You're the one that was on the shelf for almost a year!" Might've crossed the line a bit on that one.   
"Would you like to know how it felt?" he asks, still in a clam voice that practically sends chills up my spine.   
"No, I don't," I answer.   
The door opens and Amy stands there. "You two are just plain awful, ya know that?"   
"Why, thank you, Red, for that news flash," I say, sarcastically, then smile. "Just like old times, huh, Benoit?" I look over at him.   
He rolls his eyes. "Don't make me hurt you, Irvine, because I will just to make you shut up for longer than a minute, if I have to."   
"Harsh," I comment. "See what I have to deal with, Red?"   
"I wouldn't push it, Chris," she tells me. "Anyway, I came by to wish you guys good luck, which I'm sure you don't need, but thought it would be nice."   
"Thanks," I say.   
Benoit turns to her. "Thank you, Amy."   
"No problem, guys. Just make sure you kick Billy and Chuck's asses!" Amy says, then leaves.   
"I get the feeling that those two might *enjoy* that, thought," I say, smirking.   
"Disgusting," Benoit comments, then sighs, "but, story-wise, probably true."   
"Well, I'm glad we agree. Wanna go see if we can have our match first?" I say.   
"Fine," he agrees. We leave and start our search for Vance, who I'm sure is still atleast a tiny bit sore at me. 

  
A few minutes later…   
"Pleeease?!" I'm practically whining.   
"Get out of my locker room, Irvine! You're getting your match, isn't that enough?" Vince says.   
"But we want it first!" I argue.   
Vince sighs. "Alright, fine. Your match is first, now please leave."   
"Come on, I think you need a time out," Benoit says and drags me out. "Are you 31 or 13? I can't tell anymore."   
"I just want those tag belts. I'm excited, okay? I'll be able to get gold and be a face," I say.   
"And?" he prods.   
"And?" I question.   
"Who do you have to thank?" Benoit asks.   
"Adam, for saving me from Ron and John when I lost $200 to them in a poker game that was rigged in their favor," I answer.   
"I'll give you one more chance to answer correctly," Benoit threatens.   
"Uh… you?" I say, kind of uncertain.   
"See? That wasn't so tough, now was it?" he says. 

  
Later, the end of our tag match. It's been one helluva match, going back and forth. Right now, Benoit's in the ring, beating the crap out of Chucky.   
Benoit chops him several times, then flings him into the ropes. Chucky runs straight into Benoit, who gives him a belly-to-belly suplex. He pulls him up and prepares for the German suplexes.   
I see Billy try to stop Benoit, so I charge over and clothesline Billy, while Benoit hits the first suplex… then a second… a third… fourth… and a fifth. Billy gets back into the ring and charges at us, so we flip him over our heads. Benoit then puts the Crossface on Chucky, so I put Billy in the Walls. The Duo then tap profusely.   
"The winners, and new tag team champions, Chris Benoit and Chris Jericho!" Lillian announces.   
We retrieve our newly-won belts. "I think we need a tag team name," I tell Benoit.   
"We'll meet with Adam and Rob and think up some," he replies.   
"As long as we have a name before losing these titles," I say.   
"It'll be a long time before *that* happens," Benoit says, and we head up the ramp to go and celebrate our win.   
And after it all, I finally got to be me again… without the walls tumbling down around me. 

  


_The End…?_

  
Author's Note: Yup, that little question mark means there will be more to this story! I'll be writing a companion piece titled "And The Walls Came Tumbling Down." All I know definitely right now is, it will be in Chris Benoit's perspective. Stay tuned & keep those reviews coming, please! 

  



End file.
